


An [A]nthology of 'What If' questions

by Elyssian



Series: A Dose of Random [1]
Category: Angel Beats!, Anime & Manga - Fandom, Gatchaman Crowds, Hetalia: Axis Powers, Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler, 終わりのセラフ | Owari no Seraph | Seraph of the End
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-08-27
Updated: 2016-08-27
Packaged: 2018-08-11 08:20:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7883713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elyssian/pseuds/Elyssian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Theory of Parallel Universes implies that our universe is not the only one, but that many universes exist parallel to each other. These distinct universes within the multiverse theory are called parallel universes or alternate universes. In other words, this is a glorified fic dump for Anime & Manga Fics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. What if Germania was a dad? [Hetalia, modern/domestic Au]

Germania Eldestein is not a familial man.

He was 25, single (divorced, really, because arranged marriages don't last long apparently), life thoroughly filled with work and damage control for the antics of his ‘best friend’ and an overall bad conversationalist. (It was often said he was too curt.)

And yet Germania Eldestein's house somehow manages to find its vast proportions filled with _children_. Children, who should not be here.

Roderich is, at the very least (and according to the hasty, scrawled note in the boy's hand), his.

Germania just opens the door one day and the boy is sitting on his front step, soaked, with a car speeding off in the distance. He had been, roughly gauged by Germania, 4. _  
_

Germania grunts, lets him in and crashes through his newfound fatherhood. (He tries to remember the one night stand the note mentions, and fails.)

Roderich likes music, arts and the kid next door apparently. One of the above three will sate him where food and other basic necessities do not.

Apparently, this is the signal for some unseen, bored, divine being to shrug and declare ‘ _let's add more!’_

Gilbert doesn't come as suddenly Roderich, he just fades into the house. Though fade is not very accurate; Germania is just immune to the loud, destructive antics. But eventually, the homeless street child, same age as Roderich (six), realises that freeloading into the Eldestein manor is a better option compared to cardboard boxes.

At least, Gilbert can cook. It evens out his destructive ability. And he is fast friends with Roderich's friend, the Herdevary- girl? Boy? Germania cannot tell. (And apparently, the boys cannot either. Their assumptions on the gender conflicts.)

Then Zwingli from next door gets into a car accident. Parents dead, the company in bankruptcy, leaving two orphaned children. All it takes is for a passing by Germania to see the sniffling three-year-old girl and he waving off thankful distance relatives, carrying two children into his house.

With Vash, who is oddly also the same age as Roderich and Gilbert, a sense of order comes upon the younger occupants of the house. His OCD-like behaviour merges with Gilbert's odd ‘neat-freak’ personality. (His expressed joy at the sight of Germania's framed weapons is alarming, especially when it is expanded by said boy.) Lilli, in contrast to her brother, is very docile and soon she becomes a calming presence. (And cooks food that is not a type of wurst. Wurst is good, but not meant to be consumed three meals a day, every day.)

Germania thinks that quite truly he has had enough children, deploring to Roma Vargas (his disputable best friend), who only sports two children and yet shares his lament.

“Kids are pretty mysterious you know? I've got this neighbour from Greece who got into a fling with a younger man from Turkey and their kid is-”

The conversation trails and trails; they talk about Kirkland and her five kids (the father is oddly unmentioned, though many suspect the lady herself is the cause of the disappearance) then the Bonnefois boy who visits the Kirklands often then Herdervary and the reveal that the young cousin under his care is, in fact, a girl and then Yao Wang's barrage of siblings.

Then he goes home and Gilbert is sitting in the living room (at 1 am no less) with a basket.

“Someone left him on the front door. Says she was your ex?”

Oh, dear lord, it's another one- and a _baby_ at that.

Germania peers over to see and yes- it does look an awful lot like him with the blue eyes and blond tuft. (Compared to Roderich.)

“His name's Ludwig apparently!”

Germania can do nothing but sigh and accept the latest addition.

So Germania looks on, and now the man has an alarming five children, and as he waits with bated breath over the years, it will thankfully stay at five.

Five wonderful children who are his. 


	2. What if Ceil Phantomhive was a ghost? [Black Butler, Modern AU]

Act 0: Manor Phantomhive

* * *

  
**MAGAZINE OCCULTS ISSUE # 25**

Manor Phantomhive  
By XXX

 

{The Manor}  
Phantomhive's estate was discovered in the early nineties, deep into London's countryside and secluded from the world. Tucked into a deep forest, the estate consists of one main manor and several other small buildings for servants, storage and similar purposes. Phantomhive's estate also consist of two gardens, a greenhouse and a smaller plot for crop cultivation, likely because the nearest signs of civilisation used to be hundreds of kilometres away. Phantomhive's main manor is majestic three winged, twelve stories Victorian building designed to be facing south.

Outside of its buildings, the Phantomhive's property seems to include the six kilometres deep forest surrounding its Southside and similar two kilometre forest that encompasses the back of the estate from west to east; both hills (seven kilometres wide, fifteen kilometres height) at North-East and North-West; and finally the lake (Lake Elizabeth, five kilometre wide) and the small island at its centre (Lizzy's Island, one kilometre wide)

The estate, counting the expanse of forest, hills and lake is roughly 2500 hectares. The estate was bought in the late nineties by a mysterious patron known as ‘The Undertaker’ though he is known not to have ever resided in the property itself.

 

{The Phantomhives}  
Most records of the Phantomhive family can be gleaned from one of three sources; the cemetery the North-West hill is used for; the labeled portrait paintings (unfortunately lacking some earlier generations); and lastly a tapestry adorning the wall above the main staircase, depicting an assumed complete family tree for it lists named not found in the cemetery.

It is assumed that the last Head of the family was a young Ceil Phantomhive for his is the last name in the list of Phantomhives. It is presumed that Ceil Phantomhive died a young, premature death of unknown cause (presumably an illness) like his parents (who presided in a fire) though it is noted that unlike the rest of the Phantomhives his spot in the cemetery does not house a body; only a memorial with fiancé Elizabeth Midford's grave beside him.

 

{The Legend}  
While in itself an architectural beauty and a historical site, the Phantomhive's fame derives itself from the tales of hauntings frequently happening in the grounds and vicinity.

The nearest town had occasionally reported phantom flames lighting up the night but oddly smokeless and disappearing in an instant. The town itself have long since been superstitious of the area and wary of it, stating that some who ventured there ended up right back at where they started.

An interviewed townsman, John Doe stated that he and a few friend had once gone into the forest for several hours only to emerge and discover that they had been gone for days.

“It was a surreal experience.” He stated. “I could've sworn we only spent two hours in the forest, but the town says we've been gone three days. Come to think of it, we couldn't see the sky at all from the forest.”

More strange was a tendency for some townsfolk to hang themselves in the forest. The local baker, Jane Plain, is a seventy-year-old woman who has seen them come and go.

“It's not very often it happens.” She says. “But once in a while someone hits a hard time at life and goes into the forest. I've seen a traveller stop by and go in herself. And odder still are the one or two who start walking towards the forest as of in a trance. You call to them but they don't respond. We've tried catching these few fellas but no matter who fast we run or how near we are, by the time we've caught up they've just disappeared into the forest. Poof!”

A plethora of other mysterious stories surround the area, and that's not counting the manor itself. Beyond the ordinary ghost sightings at the Cemetery (most commonly a lady in red) the manor seems to be haunted by the late Ciel Phantomhive and his servants.

Ciel Phantomhive is speculated to have been in his mid-teens when Ill fate struck, but his ghost seems to be that of a young child. The ghost has been described as a child with an eyepatch and similar features to the late earl despite very few paintings having been seen by the general populace.

A most noticeable incident is when an auction was held a year after the mansion's discovery, with the various antiquities discovered in the estate up for bids (the right to the estate included).

It is reported by several sources that the ghost of Ciel Phantomhive appeared before all fifty bidders who had gathered before the main staircase for the bidding. Phantomhive was reported to have suddenly appeared at the top of the stairs and commanded them to leave. This was followed by a poltergeist event where nearly everything that was not originally from the mansion being sent flying; Chairs brought in, belongings and people. Then items that had been moved or brought up for the bidding were reported to move by themselves, to their former positions.

The building was evacuated when it burst into flames. However, when some returned to check the next day, the manor was perfectly intact.

Before and after this incident, Ciel Phantomhive never made such an appearance again; only glimpses of ghosts presumed to have belonged to his servants (a maid, cook, gardener and two butlers) and a woman presumed to have been his late fiancé Elizabeth Midford.

 

{The Challenge}  
Very few have approached the mansion after the fiasco auction but stories of ghost sightings are vividly reported by the few who have. These stopped when the property in its whole was bought by the mysterious ‘Undertaker’. Until in early 1999, a challenge was officially issued.

 _“If one was to survive in the grounds (all two thousand over hectares of it) for one month (that's four weeks) then I will award this lad or lass the right to the property and precisely one million sterling pounds. Only a limited people per month, a waiver must be signed and food, electricity and running water provided. Giving up will be an available choice if you cannot take it.”_  
\- official announcement in the OOO Paper, 7 March 1999

Over a decade of participants have undergone the challenge and none have made past week three. Those who have undergone this challenge are very tight lipped about their experience, mostly deigning to describe it as ‘terrifying’, ‘surreal’, ‘vivid’ and ‘traumatising’.

Most report to have only glimpsed the servants, sans one butler (a younger one) who appears to very few. These very few instances are usually participants who have lasted over two weeks, and the butler always appears at his master's side.

The few recounts of experiences are…

* * *

 

“Did you see that magazine article from yesterday young master?”

“Yes, I was wondering why you left that trash with the morning paper.”

“Grumpy because you were written on as a child? How exciting it will be for the press when they realise what your height was at fifteen young master.”

“Shut it, Sebastian. Earl Grey today? Not a bad choice but awfully mundane compared to the blends you've been trying recently.”

“Baldroy and Mei-Rin have destroyed the supplies, so it will be Earl Grey for today young master. We will restock later today.”

“Hmm. Inform the house that the next set of humans are due tomorrow evening.”

“Yes, my Lord.”

* * *

_“Che. Is this group just a bunch of rich men? They don't look like they're made of much. It will be easy to scare them off within the week.”_

_“At least try to act sportsmanlike, young master. It is no good if they run screaming out the doors within the first hour.”_

_“Ho ho ho.”_

_“So what Mr Sebastian is saying we should mete it out slowly?”_

_“You've got the gist Mey-Rin! Come on Finnian! We've got work to do before Snake brings them up.”_

_“Sure thing Baldroy!”_

_“Sebastion bring up the report and read it out.”_

_“Yes, my lord._

_The first set of participants is as follows._

_One mister Azzuro Veinel and two lackeys, Misters Tirriam Flech and Fritz Rickmansworth. They entered as a group and are interested in the profit it seems._

_One mister Chlaus, who deigned not to give his first name._

_One Grell Sutcliff, an occult investigator it seems._

_One mister Lau Ryu from shanghai, a trader indulging in his free time it seems. He has brought along one miss Ran-Mau as an assistant of sorts._

_One mister Aliester Chamber, who is here it seems to entertain himself._

_And finally one mister William T Spears, who is also a hired investigator and friend of Sutcliff. He, however, refused to group with him._

_Nine guests total.”_

_The paper was folded back and slipped into an inner pocket, as the black butler made a bow. All five servants were called to attention when Ciel Phantomhive's can rapped against the carpeted floor._

_“This is an order from your master. Commence the directive!”_

_“Yes!”_

* * *

 

The first thing Azzuro Veinel did upon arrival was to stare at the guide.

They had parked at the town and then trekked a kilometre (filled with curses about insects and the damp weather) up to the outer entrance to the Phantomhive estate, an unmarked path. The only indication that that was where they were supposed to be was the man.

'Man' was not entirely accurate, for his features still held a soft, youthful quality to them. 'Man' was also not entirely accurate, for there were patches of skin that were unmistakably not skin. It looked more like what Azzuro recognised as scales- ridged white snake scales blending into smooth pale skin. And most glaring were the slitted eyes.

Azzuro squinted harder at the skin, trying to see the seams; it was a good and valuable skill for him to have, determining the authenticity of products (like the drugs or money). But he did not find the fault before a voice- a type of hearty voice associated with smiling old men- cut in his thoughts and his men's whispers finely.

“It does not do well to stare so intently Azzuro; Albinism is rare but your manners could use some work.”

Indeed, the young man's hair was a soft white though his eyes were not the trademark shade of Crimson; they were emerald, dark but possessing a glint to them. But Azzuro cared very little for genetic rarities. Indeed right now he was more interested in who would address him in such a casual manner. His men it's seemed were very interested too and had begun to glare.

He was right; the voice did belonging to a homely character, one very familiar and a lot less the innocent persona he had imagined.

“Ah. Chlaus. Stand down you two.”

Azzuro forced a smile, a twitch in his eye.

“This is Mister Chlaus.”

They were hushed, for Azzuro made very sure his lackeys were aware of who the other Aristocrats of Evil were. (Once, Azzuro had scoffed at the name.) Proper respect was to be shown to his fellows in the organisation, and the oddness of Chlaus ever so unusual attire was to be ignored. (It would have been better if he had just chosen either a normal suit or foreign clothing, not the suits with exotic prints; and of course, there was the tie.)

Chlaus seemed unperturbed by the stiffness of Azzuro's smile and strode over to shake his hand.

“Second from last here Azzuro, you are a tad bit late it seems.”

“What?”

Azzuro glanced behind Chlaus's hat and spotted three people; an Aliester Chambers he, unfortunately, recognised, a smart looking man who was very likely to be here on official business and a red headed man… or woman? Azzuro squinted harder and saw the masculine line of his figure, though the way he was flirting with Chambers suggested otherwise. A trans?

Chlaus's timer for his staring had stopped it seemed, and Azzuro was guided in strides to the group.

“Ah! Mister Vienel is it? The trader from Ferro? I've seen you at one of my parties!”

Unfortunately, the first to notice him was Chambers, who was pulling along the red-head (Azzuro wondered if hair was even capable of attaining that brightness) trans person.

Aleister Chambers was, like Azzuro, a blonde and wearing his hair long, but unlike Azzuro, his blond was a less gaudy shade, a more soft tone he wore down instead of tying it. His person reeked of noble blood; he was from an old family of nobles apparently and this was mere often than not flaunted.

Azzuro hated every bit of him.

But as a member of a Ferro family, he had to make nice with someone who happily parted with his money for products; rich fools made very good income.

“Chambers.”

The smile was entirely unaffected by the grunt and Aliester proceeded to shove his new friend into the Italian's face.

“Ah yes! Have you met Grell, Azzuro- can I call you Zurro?”

“No.”

“-as I was saying Zurro this fine young miss here is Grell Sutcliff, he's been sent here with that stiff man over there as paranormal investigators.”

Azzuro Vienel debated the repercussions of ordering Fletch and Rickmansworth to bludgeon the aristocrat. He forced himself not to glare and carried his part of the conversation.

“Miss Sutcliff was it?”

Well, a conversation that wasn't aimed at Aliester.

Grell Sutcliff batted long eyelashes at him, a darker red than his hair, and peered at him with the oddest set of yellow-green eyes from behind a metal frame.

“Miss or Mister, it doesn't matter. I do like being called Miss but either way is fine. Here on official business mister Vienel?”

Azzuro had nothing against these sorts of men (indeed he knew some men who made very good company) but Grell seemed to be a flashy sort he would grate against. His companion might make for better company, though.

“Miss Sutcliff then. Who's your silent friend over there?”

He jabbed a thumb in the suited man's direction, the figure remaining absorbed with his staring contest with the forest.

Grell gave a click of distaste and glared slightly.

“That's just William. He's a prude.”

“I heard that.”

‘William’ it seemed was not entirely oblivious to his surroundings, and strode over himself for an introduction.

“William T Spears, investigator. We are here to check the authenticity of these so called ‘ghosts’. ”

He slid his spectacles back to their place and Azzuro noticed that he had the exact same eyes as Grell; an unnatural blend of sun and grass.

“I do believe the last group is here.”

William's attention shifted to a spot behind Azzuro, where a loud and familiar voice had cheerily greeted Chlaus.

Azzuro turned and got a face full of something squishy.

“Ah, Ran Mao! Stay there but don't suffocate him alright?”

Grell watched as the Chinese girl launched herself at Azzuro, smothering him with her chest while her companion cheered.

“Grah- LAU!”

Lau Ryu, the fellow tradesman of a different company (whom Grell knew to engage in his fair share of illegalities) had arrived, on foot like the rest but seemingly empowered by the trek. He was jauntily waving with sleeves that flopped past his hands, too far past to merely be a wrong fitting. (Grell wondered how he was surviving the weather with that clothing.).

“Hello, Hello! I'm Lau Ryu -oh hello Chlaus!- and this is my assistant Ran Mao! I see I am last, though I do not think I am tardy?”

There was a sharpness to his words, cutting the phonetics to soon and delivering the sentence too fast. His voice, speaking Chinese, would have been described as silken. However in English Lau's voice took on a nice foreign quality, but not with the same impact.

“You are not tardy Sir, says Emily. You are all early, says Woodworth.”

The pale man, for how long none knew, was standing in the midst of the meshed group. Even William had drawn closer (which meant inevitably standing beside Grell), sensing the start of the event. Lau Ryu looked the man over.

“And you are the official guide?”

“My name is Snake, says Bronte. I am hired by Mr Undertaker, says Emily.”

“Emily?”

From the depths of his coat, three snakes protruded, hissing and lazily draping themselves about the man. The man is unresponsive, a contrast to the people who either jumping away or the people who actually going nearer.

“Oohhhh. Not a bad sort.”

Lau had moved closer, to pear and prod at a white snake on the man's shoulder. Ran-Mao began showing signs of discomfort behind him.

“Are the two of you mad?”

Azzuro was yelling, and it seemed he had spared William the same; the bespectacled man was frowning heavily and restraining a cooing Aliester Chambers.

Chlaus was similarly aroused by the snakes' presence; they were so very rare, he could easily see that, but was restraining himself easily. The man had not moved either back or front, remaining poised.

“Oho, what a set. So your name would be Snake yes?”

“Yes, says Emily. Since you are all here, we will begin leading you to the manor, says Bronte. The game officially begins once you enter the forest, says Woodsworth, so is there anyone who wishes to withdraw their participation?”

Grell answered for them all.

“We didn't come all the way here for nothing dearie.”

 

 


	3. What if NGNLxHetalia (Another Colour)? [Hetalia another clolour, No Game No Life AU)

Did you hear about that urban legend?

Where [something unknown] presented itself in a [rare] moment.

When [something is done] to the [unknown] you/the person will [experience something impossible].

But impossible isn't really the right way to describe it, right?

More like something [sounds cool] but is unattainable in our finite existence.

That is the origin of all urban legends I suppose.

The story of something amazing that will break the boring cycle of life.

Let me tell you about the urban legend, 『Numbered』

This is a story of a group of people, or maybe it's just one person?

『Numbered』were a group of unbeatable players that used a username format that consisted of a Roman numeral from 1 to 16 in between a set of brackets.

A simple tale, really.

But these players never played as a team of more than three and more often than not soloed gaming trials that would have stumped a team of great players.

It was clear that the gaming world revered them as more than just a legend, making thousand of wild speculations.

Is it a computer?

A super hacker?

Or an extraterrestrial?

Each speculation gets wilder, while the realists try to hack into their accounts only to fail.

Those who tried to ‘pretend’ were put down and humiliated quite quickly.

And throughout all this, they remained silent.

But the truth is more often than not boringly unimpressive.

Here is the truth.

The record holder for a winning streak untarnished by not even a single black speck in over 250 games-

 

“Oi, I know it's a zombie apocalypse but to have Joan of Arc here is kinda weird right? We're in the 21st century.”

“Maybe that's because the virus can reanimate long-dead things? Ah, look out one of the zombies are charging at you.”

The sound of gunfire can be heard, three consecutive shots.

“That's not likely either. Joan of Arc was burned so her remains shouldn't be salvageable to the point where her corpse is walking around with most of its flesh.”

“You're too stiff. It's just a game!”

The dark room was large, though the inhabitance of eight large screens, an array of gaming devices and mountains of instant food made seems cramped.

Each of the screens had several programs running, most of them games and some a jumble of algorithms. In front of the screen where a simplistic zombie shooting game was running the main protagonist of this story sat transfixed, unbothered by the maelstrom of junk that surrounded him.

The 16th member of numbers, 『XVI』, Feliciano Vargas.

A fancy title with no meaning in the real world. Really, Feliciano Vargas is just an Italian NEET, and 18-year-old virgin who plays zombie games at one am.

Thus that is the sad truth.

 

It was on this fine day, somewhere at 8 am, that Feliciano Vargas finds himself clicking open a mysterious e-mail.

Illuminated by the faint light of the screens and the sunlight that struggled to make its presence through the thick curtains, the trash had been hastily swept to one side in a heap.

“Where the hell is my tablet?!”

Feliciano, though a hermit, could not deny the need to leave his sanctuary when his food supply dwindled. But for a gamer, it is sin to go somewhere without a game in immediate reach!

The world was not such a kind place so he could not simply stuff his games inside a sling bag and be gone with it. If that one bag was snatched by a thief, his whole life was over! No, he needed to do this carefully!

In the baggy pants with 6 pockets, he filled with his hand held, multi-purpose battery, solar charger, handphone, other handhelds and the backup phone.

He would put similar things and the tablet PC in his belt pack… if he could sort through the mess and find it.

-Ring!-

“There it is!”

Seizing the chance he pounced on the location of the sound, successfully emerging with the tablet PC.

“Ah wait, that was one ring so it's an email to my personal account?”

This paranoid shut in had several email accounts; Personal, gaming, appearance sake, back up and a false. Extreme measures to prevent hacking.

“Ah, something addressed to me?”

The message read,

[Have you ever felt that you were born into the wrong world, the 16th member of 『Numbers』,『XVI』, The Adriatic King?]

… hah?

It was a somewhat strange message, including a URL seemed to somehow lack the code for the country domain. But it looked like a link to-

-a game.

So it's a challenge? He clicked on the link, alert for viruses.

It linked him to-

\- a simple online chess game? What the hell?

He was half tempted to shut down the page but resisted.

It was a rule of 『Numbers』that when challenged to a game, they will never back down, and never lose.

So it was basically his duty to respond to the challenge.

“Ah what the heck. I've got time to waste before the worst of the sun goes away.”

 

A game that Feliciano had expected to be over in less than an hour expanded itself into a brutal six-hour battle that left him panting, head flopped down the table top, the gold lettering of the words ‘you win’ flashing on the screen.

“What the hell… was that a grandmaster or another 『Numbers』playing a good joke…”

He'd already ruled out the possibility of a program fifteen minutes into the game. There was no program in this world capable of making those moves.

A program will always choose the best option, so the moves can be predicted as long as you can pick out the chosen option from 10^120 choices. It wasn't really his skill, but he could still do it given some time. Truthfully there were only around three 『Numbers』with that sort of crazy ability as far as he knew. (One of which he called a friend). The rest of them were slower and half of the time misjudged.

But that wasn't the probably here. The person on the other side of the screen knew how to bait and make his moves look sloppy. The execution of his moves was not with the order of a program. It was definitely a person.

Just as his musings paused, another ring signalled the arrival of mail. Wearily, Feliciano dragged the tablet closer.

[Well done! You're the final 『Number』that beat me! Congratulations! I'm sure that living in this world is hard for you too?]

The room with a set of eight screens, tables, keyboards and different type consoles, a floor with empty packets, be it games of food, here and there with a pile in one corner, a square black room were the sunset rays struggled of dye it in a hue of orange.

The entire room froze.

In Feliciano's mind, unpleasant memories begun resurfacing.

He was undoubtedly different, a person the majority of the faceless world wouldn't even try to comprehend. The only happy memory of the last he had was the fact his isolation led to the creation of the scenario where 『Numbers』was formed. The rest is a history of being ostracised for being incomprehensible.

Of course, his reply was angry and rude.

[None of your damned business!]

Judging by the quick somewhat reply to his outburst, the question was expected to remain without a proper answer.

[What do you think about this world?]

…

[Its a damn shitty game.]

Who would like this stupid game of a world where disobeying the rules, obeying them, creating your own rules… the outcome of all that was a punishment. The world would turn on you for lacking a certain thing, for being better at other things, even for making your own way! It's a senseless game designed for masochists.

-Ring!-

He contemplated shutting off the tablet. The words, however, caught him like a barbed hook.

[What if I told you that in an alternate universe, everything was ruled by games, where the parameters are clear, exist?]

He grinned.

[Then I was born into the wrong world.]

That seemed to be the switch, an unseen call for fate's wheel to click and turn.

Several things happened at once.

His eight screens glitched, showing static.

The sun set, the orange glow of the room disappearing.

Feliciano felt the gravity shift.

The objects of the room bag melding into the walls and floor as it- the cube-shaped room unfolded.

“What the-”

A voice came from the tablet tightly clutched in his hand.

[I agree! Thus, I'm going to give you a chance to be reborn into my world!]

Feliciano's senses were flooded, his eyes blinded by a sudden flash of light, his ears filled with the sound of static and his body suddenly weightless, before suddenly plunging through a floor that was no longer there


	4. What if stuff? [Gatchaman Crowds, post-insight]

The first thing they did was look up.

There, in the middle of a speckle of clouds, was a singular moon. The largest thing they could see was an aeroplane passing by.

A single moon.

“We made it.”

The third companion, who perhaps had much more to do about the current situation than them, asked the two something fairly important.

“So, what are you two gonna do now?”

A firm reply came.

“We're going to save the world.”

Then they parted, quickly fading into the night.

“Eh? Are we supposed to split up? Hey guys, what do I do?”

No answer came, perhaps because there was no one to answer. The left behind figure cried out to an empty park in frustration.

“Guys!”

* * *

 

Rui had drawn the curtains.

The city was luminescent at night, a fact owed to an abundance of streetlights, neon signs, lights peaking out from buildings, street decorations and the glow of smartphones from every human who walked the paths below.

This luminescence clashed horribly with the light of his screens, so Rui had drawn the think curtains over his window.

“It's beautiful to see, but tonight seems brighter than usual somehow.”

Rui muttered to himself, his voice low and slow in the peace of his apartment. He kicked the armrest of his couch softly, lying down and picking out jelly beans from a jar.

It remains quiet until X's voice trills through the walls with alarm.

“Rui, my systems detected anomaly appearing in the riverside park.”

Ninomiya Rui's hand stops, and he drops the jellybean back to its container. He puts the jar away and searches amongst his screens.

“Show me.”

A dozen screens change their displays, from news reports and graph studies to a single display. The image brought up is a video feed from a public security camera and in it, a small child runs about in panicked circles.

Trailing above him is a two-meter hole framed by blue frays.

“It appeared 97 seconds ago on the camera's, but I suspect something similar to amnesia effect was used prior to its appearance.”

He knows it's a bad habit, but he brings up his thumb to his lips. Chewing down a nail, and effectively ruining a measure of nail polish, Rui narrowed his eyes at the screen.

“X, is there anyone in the area? I'm going to investigate.”

X's reply had nothing to do with that, however.

“Rui. Your note is glowing.”

Indeed it is. The seal undoes itself and the pages flip open to a blank space. The letters that fill this space are written in JJ's scratchy script.

* * *

 

 _Two lost birds emerge from the spiral tunnel_  
A warning follows them  
The second moon arrives and waits  
For reason is only found when the music is loud

* * *

 

In Gatchaman headquarters, Paimon runs over to the where he can yell down into the spiritual precipice.

“JJ-sama! This is way vaguer than usual!”

Hajime who lingers beside him asks him in wonder.

“Is that so? I don't think it's different than the usual. Now, what is the ‘reason’ we need to look for?”

She hums away, pondering and mulling the riddle.

“Katze-san, what do you think?”

_“Hell if I know, damn bitch!”_

Paimon stresses out to JJ for several more moments before O.D chuckles and brings him down.

“Now now Pai-Pai. Let's just go about as we usually do. JJ mentioned a spiral tunnel, right? That sounds like ‘that thing’, doesn't it?”

Pai calms instantly, his mood coming and going. He trots back into CAGE proper with O.D, deadly serious.

“But that's impossible. That type of dangerous ability has no registered wielders as of now.”

“Then it could be something new.”

“Perhaps.”

* * *

 

“Utsutsu sempai, the ‘warning’ means it's not an enemy right?”

Tsubasa poses the question to the girl watching the stars with her. The shadows of the tree that shelters them make small shadows dance across their skin, and the ruffle of clothes in the breeze accompanies their movement.

“I feel gloomy.”

Tsubasa has grown used to the catchphrase and resumes her breathing exercise.

“I hope it's nothing dangerous!”

* * *

 

“Lost birds… in other words, people like us?”

Alan the bartender peers over his bar at the NOTE as it's glow fades. Jou gave it a quick look before setting it down and resuming his dart throwing. Sugane, however, continues to ponder over the words that blemish the white pages.

“Is that a Gatchaman thing?”

“Ah, yes. It's something like a prophecy for us.”

“A prophecy? So you've got an oracle?”

Sugane ponders about it. Yes, the word does seem to fit JJ more than ‘god’ does.

“He'a something like that.”

Jou sounds out as his third dart hits home.

“An oracle… I've always thought of him as something like a monk.”

* * *

 

Ninomiya Rui weighs her choices.

Chase the anomaly alone, or call back up?

“Rui, I think you should call some of the Gatchaman at least.”

X sounds out softly, but it is more a statement than an offered option.

“Do you think it's dangerous enough that I need help?”

Rui didn't program it, but since Berg Katze impersonated him X has grown slightly more worried about him. If Rui could, he'd say X was fretting.

“No Rui. I think you should call your friends because you have them.”

Rui spends a second stunned before he lets the grin eat at his face. As he begins picking out an outfit, Rui calls out to X in appreciation.

“I guess you're right. Thanks, X.”

* * *

 

_An anomaly appeared at the riverside park. It looks like an alien, and I have reason to believe so. I am going to investigate, and I would like to ask anyone free to join me._

_I mean, I would like some ~~backup~~ company._

* * *

 

Hajime smiles at her NOTE as Rui's script rolls out across the page. She dashes back into her apartment proper and swipes a stray pen.

“Hajime is on the way!”

The pen leaves little sparkles on the page, and two lines follow suit.

_I'm coming along too! -Tsubasa_

_Well then, Sugane and I are going to keep drinking. Call us if you need us._

Hajime giggles as she pictures Sugane flustering at Jou.

“No then… Birds, Go!”


	5. What if we stared at Katze really hard? [Gatchaman Crowds, canon compliant)

To describe what Katze does as possession is close but not accurate.

Katze reaches deep into a person soul and he picks out the ugly, black little parts that scream of murder and destruction. All humans have irrational desires and Katze embodies that, sometimes going so far as to make the slice of raw emotion his.

He pushes until the emotion, red rage or green envy, mutates into psychedelic chaos. It's Katze's sick little brand of amplification.

He can do other things when he tugs at pieces of people but they're all too base and too plain to get good fun out of so he leaves and moves on to other toys in the quick flick of a tail.

Rui-Rui is so fun at first, but recently he's grown a bit bored. Not bored enough to leave Rui but bored enough that he considers adding a little more colour to his stage.

Then he finds the earth's Gatchaman. He can always depend on JJ to choose fun toys, though usually, only one out of five are really fun to play with.

The first is very fun. He's heard of depression, and the man's state of monotone is so harshly bleak it barely takes effort to get the right rise from him. Katze rummages a bit into the flame Gatchaman and rips out a piece of despair. He metaphorically twirls it around and focuses on the deafening inferiority of Hibiki Jou.

_**“I should just give up.”** _

A man who too acutely realises his insignificance in the world and lets it bear him down- _well that's heavy!_ Katze snickers at him. Poor little ant.

He pushes it into his face instead of separating like he usually does. Katze feels up for a game of enabling.

He breaks fast, though, and Katze supposes that that's the downside to playing with fragile things. Oh well. As a final touch, Katze rips out the literal core of his soul, his NOTE. He giggles as the man screams his voice hoarse with the pain. An amusing sound. Katze supposes that his soul is not entirely dead yet if he can make a sound like that.

Katze moves on to the boy next- cheery looking thing he's batted away with a little too much force earlier. Well, he could wake him up easily anyways so what do a few bruises matter? He moves to him- tries to move to him that is. Someone's foot attempts contact with his face and he's forced to disappear.

The sweetest fruit of the bunch has come a little too early.

“Nice to meet you! I'm Hajime!”

He can already feel the _fun_ this girl emits, but it's too soon to be enjoying himself like that. Katze knows that the best type of fun is the fun you can draw out.

* * *

 

“Pai-Pai, Katze's name has a meaning, right? What is it?”

“Stop calling me that, newbie!”

“Hajime-chan, Berg Katze is german for mountain cat.”

“Oh! So he's like a lion then!”


	6. What Guren punishes himself for his failures? [Owari No Seraph, canon-compliant?]

It has became ritualistic, habitual and disgusting in form.

_(Because there was never a mission where he didn't lose at least one good man to death.)_

The chaos of a poorly researched attack on a minor vampire residence killed two soldiers and thirty three innocent, enslaved children. He knows well the names of the two soldiers, two men he had spoken to more than once. Hirasawa Io and Fukube Yuki. Both good men, both dead too early.

The mistake is entirely his.

They had found a small pocket of enslaved children. He had gotten careless. He assumed that there were less than three vampires, and sent in a small squad of fifteen. There were fifteen vampires, guarding a ‘shipment’ of 97 children for a noble.

And now there were thirty five dead for Ichinose Guren's foolish mistake.

He had left his team somewhere, to bed perhaps. He always leaves at night, when he will not be presumed missing by people who care so much. It works nearly all the time, because the only person he ever runs into is Shinya.

“Guren, no.”

And that is only because Shinya knows.

The pale Hiragi is waiting, blocking his path as he always does. Some deep part of Guren is touched. Shinya seemed to care so much for him. Or was because what he was doing nauseated him?

“Enough Guren! None of it was your fault, time and time again everyone has told you!”

His anger is lukewarm, spent on so many other nights like this. It has not truly built up yet, and Guren sees that it will be an easy night.

“Please, Shinya. Move.”

Silence, and Shinya watches tired lines surface in Guren's face while the shine of life sinks deep behind dull eyes.

“I need this.”

“There are other ways.”

Shinya's voice clips sharply and he folds his arms. (Other ways, he says.) Shinya has become a cornered snake, wary and ready to bite. Guren moves forward, slowly.

“Well I suppose I could've killed myself by now, since Kureto won't do that for me.”

(And other ways have never worked, not since Mahiru.)

Shinya's next breath is sharp and pained; Guren almost regrets his words. Almost says sorry. (Almost turns back because Shinya looks truly hurt.)

“So eager to die Guren.”

Ah, but Kureto is here.

The commander becomes another man in the shadows of dark halls and the company of familiar people. He drifts forth in the black of a crisp uniform, never mind that the sun has long since left the sky. He passes Shinya with the barest of acknowledgements-

“Shinya.” Then a curt nod met with indifference.

\- then comes before the target of his attention.

“Guren.”

“Kureto. Out for a walk?”

He does not return the wan smile with equal dark humour, merely with a sigh and pity in his eyes.

It is uncomfortable, the thick air. But he could not dally any longer. He passed a sheathed Mahiru to Shinya's cold hands. He felt a shiver. Guren leaned in to whisper.

“Keep her company.”

Kureto walked off. Without prompt, Guren followed and left Shinya in the halls with a ghost.

* * *

 

The secrets of this army (those within the walls) are buried. Quite literally.

The labs, the cells, the storage of unholy items- all are at the end of a trip downstairs.

Where Kureto goes, Guren had long since familiarised himself with.

Sleek, smooth walls of unbroken metal once had scientists roaming them. The lab saw a very short life, for better alternatives were fast made available.

(But not short enough for a couple experiments.)

There are many unused rooms, and one was long since picked out for their ritual. An indiscriminate door, same locks as all the others. Inconspicuous from the outside. Locks on the inside. (Not that Guren would ever need to escape.)

They step in, and Kureto locks the door (to keep people outside). He turns to face a smiling Guren. He sighs.

“How many this time?”

“Thirty five. Two soldiers. Thirty three children.”

Guren knows the children's names too. All of them. He asked the survivors.

Kureto's eye twitches. Thirty five… that was a large number. And Guren had no injuries…

Well, he never cared that much about him, no sense changing now.

Guren exhaled as Kureto lifted the the sheathed sword and swung down.

“Hirasawa Io.”

One more hit to his arm.

“Fukube Yuki.”

Three hits.

“Amane Yui.”

Four hits.

“Sayaka Mayu.”

This hit catches him in the gut, and he falls. The next hits reach more places, and Guren doesn't bother getting up.

The hits slow at they increase, as Kureto contemplates where to hit. He must not kill Guren, but he can't hit to softly either. Then he can't hit anywhere noticeable lest some troublesome rumours are roused from the lower ranks.

Guren did not make this easy for him.

But he made it enjoyable at least.

* * *

 

Kureto leaves without Guren, because he cannot be bothered and because he knows Shinya is waiting.

Shinya slips into the door Kureto leaves open and stands over Guren's unconscious form for moments, mournfully gazing upon him. Then he sets Mahiru beside him and leaves to find the first aid kit.

Reunited, the cursed demon blade starts whispering. The whispers bleed into Guren's dreams.

“ _So hopeless, my love.”_


	7. What if the afterlife looked a little different? [Angel Beats, Circus AU]

You start off walking with a crowd.

Schoolmates you recognise pepper the mass, and people your age make up the bulk of it. Scattered here and there are middle school kids, wearing bravery and excitement. A handful of adults are within your sight, carrying amused smiles or eased brows.

As you enter the park you have never seen before, the crowd thins alarmingly. You walk ten paces and a third have been seized by the darkness. Another five paces and only a quarter of the original amount remain. As you begin to stride in the park you are sure was not there yesterday, your heart finds itself no longer rushed with excitement. It beats fast with panic.

Lost in a forest you don't know, you notice that you are alone.

Panic turns into fear which rears more panic and panic in turns urges you to run. You listen, and then

_**you run.** _

* * *

 

Otonashi Yuzura finds the gates he's looking with for with less then stellar grace.

“Hey, you there. Do you usually crash into gateways?”

Peaking through the glow of a lantern is a frowning girl, the edge of her displaced grin twitching. Yuzuru looks at her blearily, squinting against the sudden light and watching her figure spit into two and merge back into one.

“I'm sorry, I kinda couldn't see where I was going.”

Batting away the girl's intrusive pole, Yuzuru pushed himself up a shabby metal fence. Beyond it was a large tent, illuminated from within by a soft glow. The girl had begin wandering away from Yuzuru, so he called out to her.

“I take it this is the Afterlife circus?”

She was back at his side in seconds.

“Are you here for the carnival?”

She began to prod at him, but he rapt gaze held his eyes in place. Her eyes were liquid amber in the yellowed light, and Yuzuru had a feeling the fire in her eyes were reflections from the lantern… She moved her finger up from his chest to the square of his eyes.

“Or are you here for the ghosts?”

Yuzuru hesitated.

What was he here for? A broke med student shambling along his classmates in blind excitement, empowered with recklessness by this cold October night? Chasing some urban legend in the spur of the moment, what was he thinking? He should be studying or asleep at the dorm right mow.

“I don't know.”

Yuzuru brought his gaze back to the girl.

“Choose for me?”

The girl barks with laughter.

“A wanderer! Alright, I'll treat you as the circus master tonight.”

The girl reaches a hand into her coat, a dark tweed with frayed tails.

“You're the circus master?”

She pulls out a deck, a small deck with much less than a poker deck. She splits them into two, a set with with white lace backings and a smaller set with black engravings.

“Nakamura Yuri, beholding you with her presence here. Now choose, Otonashi Yuzuru, one card of white and one card of black.”

“O-okay.”

As Yuzuru dances his fingers over the carefully spread cards across Yuri's fingers he tries to recall exactly when was it he told her his name.

From the white deck he pulls a card depicting a robed man standing over a river, dipping a harvesting scythe into it. In curling gold, _[13:DEATH]_ is written across the bottom. Yuzuru doesn't know the meaning of his particular choice but it is apparently some manner of victory in Yuri's eyes. Pushing the black fan of cards into Yuzuru's face, Yuri crows and looks ready to dance.

_“You are he who brings change.”_

Yuzura starts.

“Did you say something?”

“Huh? No I haven't newbie! Ha! I knew it! My great self can spit gems like you from miles away! Hurry and choose your guide!”

Before regret and common sense could pull him away, Yuzuru flips up a card. On it is a picture of a dramatic mask, face half set in tragedy and half set in comedy. Emblazoned at it's base is _[0:THE FOOL]._

“Ah shit. You really are the one aren't you kid?”

“I'm not a kid.”

Yuzuru snaps and tries to return her cards. Yuri, now solemn, pushes them into his hands.

“Keep it. You'll need em. If anyone asks who you are show it them and tell them the great Yurippe let you in.”

“What?”

Pulled forward with more strength than Yuzura can counter, Yuri leads him into in a protrusion in the large tent. No, it is a smaller tent, connected to main tent.

“You'll need him if you're gonna have any fun tonight. Trust me. He's good at what he does, more than he'd like to be.”

Whatever futile struggle he's been putting up has sapped him of any strength by now. Yuzuru tries to wrangle a straight sentence from Yuri.

“Where are you taking me again?”

Yuri has reached the back of the small tent by now. Her grip remains firm as she eases a hidden flap open with her elbow.

“Show him your cards, and he'll move you forward.”

That's the last thing Yuzuru hears before Yuri pushed him into the tent and he lands flat on his back in a flower fields.

Above him, a dangling board reads;

‘ _[6], The Poppy Eater's Field_ ’

Aways to the sign, a shock of blue hair greets him.

“Coming from the back like that, are you Yurippe's new victim?”


End file.
